No Air
by delightisadream
Summary: I dreamed of him. in my dream, I was looking at him like his smile was the only thing I needed to see. in my dream, I knew I didn't need air. I just needed him. / love is not something you feel. it's something you do. –david wilkerson / skylar x kaz; first person


Two minutes ago, everything was different.

Two minutes ago, adrenaline was pumping through my veins. The day was giving way to night as the sun began to switch places with the moon. I swung my foot at Roman's – or Riker's; I really didn't care to know – head and noticed that things were getting darker, but two minutes ago I didn't know just how much.

Two minutes ago, I was fighting. _We_ were fighting. All five of us. There was no doubt in my mind that we would win. Perhaps our feud with the shapeshifters wouldn't be finished, maybe the war wasn't over. But I knew the battle would be done soon; two minutes ago, I didn't know how soon.

Two minutes ago, they were here. Two minutes ago, he wasn't gone. Two minutes ago, I wasn't worried. _Terrified._

Two minutes ago, I wasn't about to cry.

 **/**

Three days. _Three days._

Seventy-two hours. Four thousand three hundred twenty seconds. I'd never thought about how long it was until then.

It took three days for us to get the ransom note. Seventy-two hours for the horror to set in. Four thousand three hundred twenty seconds for my mind to begin shutting down.

It wasn't as if this were an unusual position for us to be put in. The Elite Force has been through many kidnapping scares – hell, our first one had been with me. But back then, I was furious. Back then, I couldn't wait to see the damage my team would do to Riker and Roman when they found me. Back then, I knew very little was at stake.

Back then, I wasn't on this end.

It's different, being the one to get stolen from. I've been kidnapped. I've been controlled before. My powers have been lost, tampered with, taken, and recovered. I've been evil.

But I had never been left behind.

I wasn't used to the dark places my mind went, wondering what the shapeshifters were doing to him. The ransom note should've been a relief: he was alive. We still had a chance to find him. We _would_ find him. We still had time. But that's not how I felt. That didn't even come close.

 _Worried_ is when I lied about who was breaking Bree's stuff and she found out. _Scared_ is when I face a new enemy. _Frightened_ is when we saw Oliver in his old Clutch Halloween costume he just so happened to bring with him to the penthouse. _Terrified_ was when they took him. But this?

There wasn't a word in the English language to accurately describe how I was feeling.

 **/**

Ten hours passed before Chase decided we couldn't deliver.

The ransom note wasn't asking for the Superhero List like we'd expected – and even then, I'm sure no one would've been willing to trade it. Three days ago _I_ wouldn't have been; right now was a totally different story. Turns out, my reluctance to voice my readiness about the list didn't change things. They wanted something else. They wanted something worse. They wanted something we couldn't give them.

The wanted one of us killed.

I don't know if it made things worse that they didn't care _which_ one of us; to them, we were all the same pesky, little superheroes/bionic humans that were stopping them from destroying everyone else. Maybe that's why my fears skyrocketed. Maybe that's why I locked myself in my room, trying to think of an even trade that didn't involve death.

Maybe that's why I ended up crying myself to sleep.

If they didn't care which one of us we sacrificed, why would they care about him anymore? It'd only be so long that they held out on their threat of murder before they realized we weren't giving in. That they'd have to get the list some other way. That, right now, their goal was to make the team crumble, break it person by person.

That they wouldn't think twice before using _him_ to do that.

 **/**

One day. Just one more day.

One day after Chase's announcement, after he spent ten hours being the only person out of the team who read and dwelled on the ransom note, after he unknowingly passed the toll onto me, did Bree have an idea.

It might have made me a bad person; alien; _whatever._ It might have been terrible to think so. But right then, I was genuinely glad Chase and Bree and the other "lab rats" had been terrorized by Victor Krane and were thus reminded of the usefulness of cybermasks. The plan was kind of simple, almost _stupid,_ and yet it instilled such a dangerous hope in me that I jumped on board immediately with no hesitation.

I knew him being gone was making everyone apprehensive. I didn't doubt they all missed him, were all worried. But right then, right there, I think they started to take note of just how badly I wanted him back. I didn't have time with all my constant fear to think about what it meant, about _why_ I was feeling this bad. All I did was superspeed with Bree to grab four cybermasks from Mr. Davenport. All I did was help prepare everyone for the beginning of our infiltration. All I did was pray, pray so fucking _hard_ that we wouldn't be too late; that the shapeshifters would hold off long enough for us to set the plan into action.

That night, I actually fell asleep pretty quickly. I didn't expect myself to with all my nerves and anxiousness, but I as soon as my head hit the pillow I was out.

I dreamed of him. In my dream, he was safe. In my dream, he was laughing. In my dream, I was looking at him like his smile was the only thing I needed to see. In my dream, I knew I didn't need air. I just needed him.

 **/**

I expected the plan to work.

I didn't allow myself to think for one minute, not even a _second,_ how badly things could go if something went wrong. Maybe that's why I was so shocked. Maybe that's why I was robbed from at least seeing his face before we had to flee. Maybe I wouldn't have been able to handle the heartbreak at how close we'd come to saving him if I _had_ seen him.

Maybe that's why I started screaming.

I didn't even realize I was yelling at first. One second the three remaining members of the team were sitting around the kitchen table reflecting on our quite possibly _deadly_ mistake, and the next Bree and Oliver looked taken back as I got to my feet and started to shout. Bawl. Argue with no one. Do _anything_ but sit there and think about he could die.

He could die.

 _He could die._

At first, Bree tried to calm me down. Tried to assure me that we were all feeling the same way. That'd we'd get both him and Chase back. That Riker and Roman wouldn't make it out of this fight alive this time. Their names set me off, the pure hatred I felt for them too much before I shouted out my thoughts.

 _"It should have been me!"_

Was I worried for Chase? Yes, of course I was. Was it anywhere _near_ the kind of madness I found myself descending deeper into after not seeing his face, aside from my dreams, for over a week? No, not even close. My only other two friends were seated in front of me, and I don't think either of them realized I wasn't just going on about how I'd rather be the one to be kidnapped. I wasn't meaning I would've traded places with him in a _heartbeat,_ even though I would have. I meant _I_ should've been the second person taken, not Chase.

Everyone was worried for his safety, and I wasn't fooling myself into thinking I was the only one scared. Everyone had significantly smaller appetites, but I knew I was the only being physically harmed by his absence. Chase didn't deserve to see him when _I_ should've been there with him. Whether he needed me there or not, there wasn't a shot in hell that I didn't need _him._

I needed to see he was okay. I needed him to be alive. I needed to see his smiling face, I needed the sheer warmth he radiated whenever he was happy. I _needed_ that ray of sunshine in my life. I needed to physically touch him, feel his skin, and see that he wasn't starving. I needed to be there, because if I wasn't… _since_ I wasn't…I couldn't breathe.

He was my air. My lifeline. The thing I looked forward to seeing every day, and it was so _painful_ to only realize that after he'd been gone seven days and thirteen hours and counting.

The clock was ticking, winding down to a time I wasn't sure of. And I knew if it reached zero…

Nothing would ever be the same again.

 **/**

I knew I was losing my mind.

Tiny things left my brain. I didn't notice I had my shoes on the wrong feet. I hadn't realized I had broken my pencil five minutes ago and was furiously scrawling nothing onto paper. I wasn't sure if I was standing in the hallway to go to the bathroom or down the stairs, because the one thing I had latched onto was that I just left my room and that couldn't be _wrong._

Right?

Slowly, I wasn't sure of anything I did. There was a period of time, silence, where I honestly didn't know if I just woke up or was going to bed. My sleeping patterns were becoming so erratic.

It was almost laughable, how ruined I was. How I was torturing myself when someone else could've been torturing _him._ I was dropping deeper into my depression, insanity, farther than I would have thought was possible.

I have never actually _seen_ someone go insane, for the longest time I just knew it was a thing that could happen to people. I had never wondered if it would one day happen to me. It wasn't like I was standing on the streets and looking through a store's window at a cute pair of shoes, wondering if one day I'd actually be able to say I owned them.

This wasn't like that.

Each day, every hour, little by little I didn't have small parts of my sanity. I knew I wasn't myself, and the only thing that kept me hanging on was that if he came home – _when_ he came home, he shouldn't have to witness what I'd become.

But, _oh,_ was I going crazy.

 **/**

I never completely stopped eating.

Bree and Oliver ate significantly less as time went on, but their brains were still telling them they _had_ to eat. Mine used to do the same thing. Argue about how if I _didn't_ eat, then I wouldn't have any energy, and if I _didn't_ have energy, then I wouldn't be able to look for him, and if I _didn't_ look for him, then…

That's where the thoughts stopped. I couldn't even finish them.

But, over time, I couldn't stop them from creeping in. My mental defenses were falling and I was thinking about anything and everything that could be happening to him, that he could be doing right then. And eating was never on that list.

So it was no longer in my mind.

Some leftover habit of just _eating_ every once in awhile – snacks, not real meals – was still there, in the very back of my mind. But they were nowhere near my priority.

But let it be said I did _not_ stop eating fully.

I vaguely remember nibbling on a saltine cracker the tenth day of no him.

I know Oliver came to my door with some chips the next day. And after he realized I wasn't going to eat them, he and Bree practically shoved some food down my throat. But I didn't want to eat. I didn't feel right doing it.

If he was somewhere, being moved location from location, without food…then I couldn't forgive myself for eating when he didn't even have the choice.

 **/**

Even though I wasn't completely _there,_ I kept wondering if I could make the shapeshifters an offer.

I hadn't said anything out loud. At least, I don't _remember_ saying anything out loud, but I didn't exactly have my mind straight much less my _thoughts,_ so who knows? Maybe I did. Either way, Oliver was the first to suggest the idea.

They looked shocked when I agreed immediately, and I realized I hadn't spoken in days. Probably. I couldn't remember. I'm unsure as to whether I actually brought _up_ the Superhero List or if we all had it on the brain anyway, but that's what we toyed with.

Bree recommended we only hand out a few names at first, with the promise of more dangling in the air like the unsaid knowledge of how bad I was getting. We could keep them hanging on in order to get not one but _both_ of our friends back.

It was all I could do not to possibly say out loud I wanted him back first.

 **/**

The Superhero List states explicitly where everyone has in the past, ever wanted to, and currently resides.

With that kind of information, their civilian identity isn't even needed to track them down, and Riker and Roman didn't ask for it. We chose the most paranoid, hardest to catch superheroes at first and sent them to the shapeshifters, requesting one of our friends back in return. Obviously we wanted to warn the superheroes ahead of time and tell them to get the hell out of dodge, but the best we could do was have their word that they'd stay and fight in their homes so our enemies wouldn't attack our friends. They were strong, independent superheroes, so I didn't allow myself to worry about the chance they wouldn't be able to get away.

I did, however, allow myself to cry when, five days after our request, the boy who came home wasn't the one I desperately needed to see.

 **/**

Along with Chase came bad news.

Riker and Roman wanted more than just a few names from the list this time around. Chase suspected they saw something special in their first captive, and I wasn't even shocked. I knew he was special. I knew he wasn't perfect. What I didn't know was that I'd miss his crazy antics and blond moments this much.

All four of us combed through the Superhero List extra carefully, choosing only the strongest ones this time around. I'm sure the shapeshifters knew what we were doing, but we were still giving them names, and they still wanted to destroy everyone, so I guess they didn't mind too much.

In total, we gave them nineteen names that time, not including the four that had already escaped with Chase's return. I should have felt something. Ashamed for willingly giving away so many hiding places. Worried about how they were all going to fare with being exposed. But I wasn't either one of those things. I was just scared.

Scared at how much he had invaded my mind over the past two weeks. _Two weeks._

And I was already so broken.

 **/**

It took longer this time.

When Chase returned, he had a note for us to read. This time, we only had a note in our mailbox.

 _We're only going to tell you this once, and you should consider yourselves lucky we're even saying it: give us five simple targets, and we might release your friend. If you ignore this, then, well…we guess you saw him for the last time three weeks ago._

It was wishful, stupid thinking that we hadn't worried about them getting mad. We thought we had been clever, picking and choosing names and addresses to give them. We were being safe, I know that. But playing it safe instead of giving them what they wanted could cost someone their life. Could cost _him_ his life.

The three others responded with angry curses at first. But me? I bolted to the HyperLift and immediately went through the Superhero List again. It took exactly ten seconds for them to follow me down, but by then I had picked the names and only needed to write their information down.

At that moment, I knew they were no longer just worried about him. They were also worried about _me._ And maybe I should have been, too. But I wasn't.

All I could think of was a black-haired brown-eyed boy who I wouldn't ever see again if I didn't do this.

 **/**

The next day I hoped for the best.

It was dumb to believe they'd immediately give him up to us, but _I_ was getting dumb. I was letting myself imagine ridiculous scenarios where he came home unscathed, where the shapeshifters were already dead and we didn't have to follow them anymore. Where everything was alright. Where nothing would ever go wrong again. Where I wasn't dying on the inside while he might just be _dying._

Two days later I was reminding myself it took five days for them to give up Chase. It had only been three days so far, and there was absolutely nothing for me to be worried about. Nothing at all. He'd only been gone for over four weeks. _Four fucking weeks._

Three days passed, and I was trying not to panic. If the looks I got from the team were any indication, then I failed miserably. I really couldn't help it. Everywhere I looked, I saw him. A memory. A joke he told me. A smile he sent my way. _Him._

Four days went by, and Chase told us that Riker and Roman went looking for the superheroes _before_ he was let out. Five days for four superheroes. That was reasonable, they said. That was to be expected, they said. Bad guys never just give up without a fight, they said. Five days for four superheroes, they repeated, whether more to themselves or me, I don't know. No one mentioned that out of all the names from the list, I only gave them five.

By the time five weeks rolled around, I fucking _flipped out._

I don't remember where I started breaking things, breaking _everything,_ I just remember hearing the sickening crunch of glass and snapping wood as I imagined it was Riker and Roman. I imagined I was fighting them. I actually imagined I was _killing_ them _._ I had never done that before. I had never wanted to kill someone so, _so_ bad.

I left Bree's side of the room untouched, but mine was a disaster. Glass was strewn everywhere and I couldn't take a step in any direction at all because my eyes were too misty to see where the shards were.

I didn't know how Chase and Oliver could sleep in their room, looking at the empty bed every day. I didn't understand how Bree could stand to sit next to an empty chair every meal at the kitchen table. I didn't get how they could be _living_ while he might not have been.

I certainly wasn't.

 **/**

Around the six week mark, I almost did something that most people would call "really stupid."

I called it "necessary."

Bionics have been accepted for quite some time then, even if the world's initial reaction was to freak out. I hoped we could skip the freak out part and go right to the acceptance, and that's what I honestly thought would happen when I almost revealed I was Skylar Storm. _The_ Skylar Storm, the superhero from the comic books.

I was in the middle of calling upon fans of bionics and superheroes alike on a livestream. I was telling them there was a threat we needed to fix. And I was just about to say who I was when the HyperLift doors opened and not only my teammates, but also Donald and Douglas Davenport all but tackled me to the ground, shutting the camera off and doing damage control.

That night I got a severe lecture about my "careless actions" from the Davenport brothers and I just _snapped._ Bree was the only one who truly knew just how bad I was getting after the whole bedroom incident, and I showed the others how far gone I was that night. I might have yelled. I might have fought. But all I remember was crying when a flash drive broke through the penthouse windows and Chase played the video that was on it.

Riker and Roman said they were giving us one more chance after my massive slipup. We had to give them all of the remaining superheroes from the list, or else he was gone. I didn't have to ask to know we all wondered if it was an empty threat; if he was already gone. And then he was onscreen, asking me not to do that. To make sure we all stayed safe. It wasn't a videochat, so I couldn't tell him.

I couldn't tell him that, right then, I only cared about _his_ safety.

 **/**

I should have been furious.

I should have been screaming my head off, throwing punches, anything but calmly asking what happened.

Over a month without him had passed, and clearly it was affecting me, but I didn't think it'd get so bad that I actually wouldn't raise my voice. I didn't have a tantrum, I didn't fight, and I didn't overreact. Instead, I found myself _under_ reacting, simply asking whether their secret mission behind my back worked. I asked if he was alive. I told them to tell me, even if the plan failed, that he was alive.

What I didn't expect was for Oliver to say he couldn't tell me that. I didn't expect for him not to look scared, upset. I didn't expect to see Kaz walk through the front doors with Chase's arm around his shoulders like a proud father.

Bree was grinning and Oliver was saying welcome back. Kaz was thanking them and saying it felt good with us, that he was ready to get back to work. Chase went to go call Mr. Davenport. But me? I stood there, wondering if I was dreaming or hallucinating because there was no way this could be real life.

When his eyes landed on me, I knew it was real. I _knew._ The gaze he fixed on me was the most intense one he'd ever looked at me with and he just _grinned._ "I'm glad your little attempt to expose us didn't make anything harder."

He was teasing me, I realized. He looked happy, I noticed. He was alive, I finally took in. He was alive and standing ten feet away from me. He was alive and I was sharing the same air with him. There would no longer be an empty bed in the penthouse, an empty chair at the kitchen table, an empty _me._

I don't know how long I just stood there, staring at him. I couldn't _stop_ staring at him. Despite being gone for over a month with no access to new clothes, he still looked amazing. I didn't dare ask how they treated him. Whether he ate as little as I did. I didn't question if he would smell terrible when I moved next, but I was already closing the gap and pulling him into a strong embrace that was somehow soft to the touch.

I heard his breath catch in his throat as I felt his arms circle around my back, and I knew that while I had an inkling of what he could have been going through those past few weeks, he had no _clue_ what had happened to me.

I pulled back and looked at him, eyes locked onto his. All three remaining members of the Elite Force could have been watching, or maybe the world was just us two. I didn't know. I didn't care. All I focused on was him as I whispered, "I really missed you."

Somehow, those four words were enough in that moment. It didn't nearly do my inner turmoil and pain and bottled-up feelings justice after six weeks, but it was all I needed to say right then. He just looked at me – really _looked_ at me, and I knew he was seeing what him being gone had done to me. I was thinner, lighter than I had been at age thirteen, and as I avoided looking in mirrors mostly those days (not exactly because of what I would see, but because I'd developed quite a bad habit of breaking anything _glass_ recently) I had no idea what my face must've looked like. Relief was washing over me in waves, so maybe that's what he saw.

Maybe that's why he pulled me back into the hug. Maybe that's why he felt safe to whisper in my ear, my hair cascading around my shoulders, his breath hot against my skin, my grip strong around him, "I really missed you too."

* * *

 **I'm really proud of how this one turned out. And here's a little secret: I originally was going to base this entire thing around Skylar dealing with Kaz's death. I have no IDEA why I would EVER want to write about that – I don't even like to READ stuff like that – but I had the idea and, well…I feel like I could do a really good job on it, but I decided against it. In my mind, a lot of Skaz scenarios surround Skylar realizing what she feels for Kaz only after it's too late. (Maybe my idea for this one-shot was a little too literal.) This ship is literally so lively and full of jokes and just** _ **sweet**_ **in the show, so I'm not quite sure why I like to get all angsty with these twos. But oh my, my BABIES.**

 **This is dedicated to Kendall, because she really wanted me to write more Skaz fics, and I guess I actually started thinking about it? Lol, love you Kendall, I hope you enjoyed this one. x3**

 **Review please!**


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